


A Better First

by Azumaru



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Blowjobs, F/M, First Christmas, Light Bondage, baby's first christmas complete with a happy ending, what do you call tying up and blindfolding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 14:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17163953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azumaru/pseuds/Azumaru
Summary: Saeran holes up on the 25th of December to pass it by quickly. The only reason he plans to leave his study for is Saeyoung's visit for dinner and presents later that evening.But plans always change, don't they?





	A Better First

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Secret Santa for mysticmylifeisamess-enger on Tumblr! I hope you like it! \ o v o /
> 
> (Also where did the Saeran Choi/Main Character tag go on here....I literally can't find it unless that's how you're supposed to tag it)
> 
> Enjoy and Merry Christmas y'all!

    It’s been a fitful night as always for Saeran. He’s slept maybe a few hours this time, thankfully without the usual cold sweat or muffled screaming. One glance over at you, and calm washes over his heart; he hadn’t dreamt and you were still sleeping peacefully. The sight of you nestled into your blankets gave him an easy smile. You were both warm and safe, and he’d give anything to keep it that way.  
  
    Doing his best not to disturb you, he slips out of the sheets, treading lightly once his feet touch the ground. Another longing look at your sleeping form, and he disappears into the shadows. If he can’t rest, he might as well get to work.  
  
    He’s a few pages into writing up the reports Jumin had requested of him before the clock catches his attention. Has it already been two hours? No doubt you’d be awake soon, perhaps he should get to work on preparing breakfast. You’d never turned down an opportunity for breakfast in bed, have you? Saeran makes his way to the kitchen, flicking the lights on and rolling up his sleeves. There are a few ideas in mind he’s wanted to try, nothing too out of the ordinary, but nothing was too good for you. The fridge has just enough eggs; they join the rest of the ingredients on the counter, and he begins.  
  
    *  
  
    Saeran’s heart is singing with joy by the time you’ve finished eating, every praise warming his very core. You never cease to amaze him, from how you can look breathtaking when you’ve just woken up to being able to turn around the worst days of his life by simply _existing_. He’s not sure what he’s done to deserve an angel like you in his life, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
    You’re snuggled up on the couch, sipping a hot cocoa and watching one of those romantic movies that show the entire month of December. They’re predictable, but to him, they have a sort of charm he hasn’t seen outside of the holidays. After all, when you entered his life, it was nothing short of a sudden miracle. You were kind, patient, supportive…his. He smiles to himself as he finishes washing the dishes, the last plate sitting spotless in the rack. It’s the least he could do to take care of you after you saved him from hell.  
  
    “I’m going to work on my reports a little more,” he says softly from the doorway drying his hands, “do you need anything before I settle in?”  
  
    Regret pings his heart when you turn to look at him, something like hesitation gleaming in your eyes. “You’re working? Today?” There’s a hint of a whine, and he’d almost give anything to settle in with you and watch those movies. He offers you a sad smile.  
  
    “I’m sorry, princess. I promised Jumin I’d have these done before the new year.” Saeran can tell when you want to argue, and right now it’s written all over your face. You sigh in defeat and nod, his heart sinking with your mood that no doubt dropped. He walks over and kisses your forehead before kneeling to look you in the eyes. “I’ll be out in time to prepare dinner before Saeyoung arrives.”  
  
    “Okay,” you murmur, dejected.  
  
    “I love you.”  
  
    “Love you too.” He brushes the hair from your eyes and caresses your cheek before standing, hesitance roiling through him. Should he push off work and stay here with you? God knows he wants to, but…he can’t.  
  
    Saeran isn’t stupid by any means. He knows that you know that he knows what day it is, and he hates every bit of it. Hate is a strong word, of course, but he can’t help but absolutely _detest_ this day, this holiday, for more reasons than he can count. You’d call him out on it, but you know better than to open that can of worms. You know him too well, and while your heart goes out to him, you know that there’s little anyone can do to fix the pain of the past. He closes the door to the study behind him and sinks into his chair, flopping his head back for a moment to clear his raging thoughts.  
  
    Today, Saeyoung was coming to celebrate Christmas with him. It will be the first time he’d celebrate with his brother since they were separated so long ago. It will be the first time he’ll enjoy the holiday, with a full stomach and a content heart. He remembers how his brother tried so hard to make every holiday special for him, even when the hunger pains gnawed him away from the inside out. But then his beloved twin vanished, and after watching day by month by year pass with no sign of him anywhere, he’d given up. There was no choice but for him to return to his bitter little corner of the world, scorning the days meant to cherish life with family and loved ones. This habit was by far the hardest to kick, but there was nothing special about a named day anymore. Not when he’d worked day in and day out for that cult that robbed him of his innocence, drugged out of his mind and a shell of his former self. Fueled by rage and hate, he lashed out at anything threatening the ties to the one thing left that keeps him attached to this world.  
  
    But you quelled the wounded beast inside him, feeding it your love until it laid to rest. You showed him warmth, compassion, what true love and true purpose meant. You were a beacon of hope in a bleak soulless battleground. You coaxed him from his shell and breathed life and love into him. He rested his hand on his chest, feeling a little better as his thoughts turned to you. Every fiber of his being loved you, and you loved him. He knows Saeyoung loves him too, and little by little that foreign (welcome) feeling creeps back to the surface.  
  
    Saeran sits forward, pushing around a few papers with his spirit renewed. He’ll make this first Christmas one to remember, for your sake.  
  
*  
  
    The hours pass in a hesitant blur, slipping away from him as he threw his entire self into his work. His research and observations were thorough, he’s quite proud of himself as he saves the document. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he wastes no time pulling it out to check the notification. Your name greets him in big bold letters and he unlocks to see what you’ve sent him.  
  
    A text beckoning him to help you move something heavy? He’s already out of his chair and tapping a reply asking you to wait, he’ll be there soon. What were you planning on moving? His curiosity’s piqued, now he just needs to find you—  
  
    Something robs him of his vision and winds around his head, alarm bells sound off in his mind. An attack? Who? He starts to struggle out of the stranger’s grip, but his assailant…giggles? He’d recognize that laugh anywhere. Saeran straightens up and clears his throat, the blindfold doing too good of a job to block out any light or sight.  
  
    “I’ve kidnapped your girlfriend! Pay up or she sleeps with the fishes!”  
  
    His hands clap to his cheeks in mock surprise. “Oh, no! But I don’t have any money!”  
      
    You prod his back hard with a finger. “Then we’ll talk elsewhere.” He obeys, amused and admittedly intrigued on where you planned on taking this. If his memory serves correct, down this hallway leads to the main area, there should be stairs and—  
  
    “Precautionary measures!” You proclaim. Your hands are on his arms and before he knows it he’s being turned around again and again; he stumbles but manages to keep himself upright. After a good amount of turns you stop him and he slumps against a wall he brushed earlier to gather his bearings. His head is spinning just enough to disorient him, your presence hovering somewhere around him with feather-light touches.  
  
    “Sorry, babe.” You whisper.  
  
    “It’s alright.” He murmurs back. You’re urging him along with a soft push and he starts to walk again, footsteps echoing all around the halls. Is he going to the living room? No, he would have been in it by now. You guide him to the side and the footsteps fade away to carpet. There are only a few rooms that have carpet, minus the living room and guest bedroom… his leg brushes the edge of something solid and he hesitates.  
  
    “You can sit,” you command him firmly. But when he moves, you jerk him back upright by the waist. His brows furrow in confusion. What are you trying to do? “You didn’t let me finish. You can sit when I’m done preparing you.”  
  
    He’s even more lost than he was a few seconds ago. But he trusts you, so he’ll be patient.  
  
    There’s something on his chest, he parts his lips to ask what you have in mind but the words die in his throat when his shirt loosens. Did you…undo a button? He tilts his head, staying silent. You make your way down to his waist, the light fabric falling from his body. There’s a rustle of something, probably the shirt he doesn’t have on anymore, and he tries his hardest to pick up any clues to what room he’s in but—  
  
    “Safeword is ‘flower’,” you breathe near his ear.  
  
   _Oh_. His face flushes with heat. Intimacy isn’t something you both share often, and you’ve certainly never done anything like _this_ with him. It was only a matter of time, he supposes, you’ve mentioned it a few times but always played it off as a curiosity rather than an interest.  
  
    A soft palm on his cheek, and he’s guided into a gentle kiss that he eagerly leans into. Never one to deny you affection, he’s happy to hold you closer. Just being in close proximity to you makes his heart race, electricity following everywhere your wandering hands danced. No resistance is given when you deepen the kiss; he’ll never truly admit it but there’s a certain thrill that shakes his core when you’re rougher with him, hungrier for more.  
  
    You’re moving him, gently with nudging arms. He obliges and in a few long moments he finds himself seated, shifting for a second to sit comfortably. There’s no time before you’re on his lap, legs straddled over his own and descending upon him with kisses with a hunger that’s unbridled. Relentless.  
  
    Thrilling.  
  
    Your hands are everywhere, leaving trails of embers that spark a deeper flame within him. Saeran knows what you desire, and who is he to deny his princess? He pulls you flush to his chest and lets out a surprised groan when your hips grind down hard on his stirring waist. That seems to egg you on, you’re gripping his hair from the back and you wriggle your waist away _just right_ to slip a palm between you both. He’s about ready to ask what _you_ want before the words die on his choked breath. God, the way you palm his hardening dick over his trousers is absolutely _heavenly_ , maybe he should call you his angel more often. Would you mind if he…?  
  
    Curiously enough, you bat his hand away when he reaches for your own heat.  
  
    “This isn’t about me,” you assert, “this is all you, babe.”  
  
    Saeran manages to catch his breath to protest, keeping himself from bucking up into your stilled hand to chase that glorious friction. “But, sweetheart…I want to make you feel good too.” The lack of sight is bothering him, he wants to take in what you look like above him, even though he’s memorized your beautiful face time and time again.  
  
    “Another night.” You hum, rubbing him again before pulling away. All too soon the cooler air washes over him and his lips turn down. “I want to help you enjoy Christmas. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you acting funnier than usual.”  
  
    Busted. “I do not act funny. Either way, holidays don’t have meaning to me—”  
  
    “I know.” There’s movement behind him.  
  
    “I don’t mean to avoid you.”  
  
    “I know you’re not.” His heart thumps in his chest, your breath ghosts his neck before you kiss it tenderly. A shiver runs through him, leg twitching involuntarily.  
  
    “Every day is a special day with you in my life. I don’t need some holiday to make memories with you.” The wave of warm craving calms slightly with his undying affection for you.  
  
    “I know this,” your voice is softer, more gentle, “and I love you.” You move his hands behind the chair, his eyebrows fly up when something soft winds around them and tightens them together. You’ve never said anything about _that_ before. “Are you okay with this?” You murmur to his side somewhere.  
  
    He nods. “Of course.”  
  
    His chest is the next to feel the silky fabric sliding over his bare skin, goosebumps raising in its place. What’s your goal? What are you up to? It feels rude to say anything, lest it interrupt you. And where were you hiding these things? Saeran tries to move forward just a bit to test it, no dice. You’re fully intent on leaving him vulnerable, at least, his upper half. He can’t pleasure you back, and that’s a crying shame.  
  
    It’s quiet for a few staggered heartbeats before the button to his pants is popped open, and color rushes to his cheeks again. He hadn’t even noticed you moving, were the ribbons a distraction? You’re removing his pants and he reluctantly helps you by lifting his hips; while he’s made love to you many times, being seen completely naked (let alone with an erection), there’s something… _indecent_ about it. Any embarrassment washes away when your hand’s on his dick, slowly pumping. “O-oh…” Saeran huffs, canting up into your touch and whining when you withdraw once again. More fabric around his chest, his abdomen…his legs? You’re rendering him completely motionless. He wants to feel your soft heat around him, to hear those delectable cries when he’s giving you all he’s got, all you cry for. His head’s the only thing he has to move, and he throws it back into the chair with a moan when you take him in hand and pump him roughly. He’d give anything to thrust up, to just _move_ and draw these sounds out of you in tandem with his.  
  
    “Saeran.” The pace never stops, but you’re leaning closer, words dancing over his exposed throat.  
  
    By force of will alone, he lowers his head to look at wherever you must be and tries quieting his heated gasps. He’s falling apart under you already and he’d be damned if he isn’t able to hear you over his own noises.  
  
    “Yes, my love?”  
  
    “One, or two?”  
  
    Saeran furrows his brow. What’s that supposed to mean? “Two?”  
  
    There’s silence. Was that the wrong choice?  
  
    Something warm and wet brushes up the underside of his member and he cries out, legs trembling to seek more. It feels like you’re…kissing his tip? Your tongue flicks against the sensitive skin and before he’s got the time to react you’re swallowing him whole, easily sliding up and down. Moans pour unabashed from his desperate lips, he’s drowning in a sea of bliss and sinking further as his thighs are kneaded. His body’s trembling against the bindings, desperate for more, to give more, just _anything_ as long as it’s more.  
  
    You pick up the pace at which you take him in, under the throes of pleasure he’s amazed you can nearly take him in to the hilt without reflex. Something powerful is brewing within his core and the longer you go, the harder it threatens to surface. He wants to keep this going as long as he can, but the way you move feels fantastic, he never wants this to stop. You’re starting to hum a soft tune that he’s played a few times on piano for you, and the vibrations you’re giving his manhood are downright sinful. He’s not going to last much longer, his chest heaving and heat rolling off him in waves. Is this how he makes you feel when he puts his lips to your core? No wonder you’re so vocal.  
  
    He’s singing shaky praises over broken moans as you hollow your cheeks for him, and he knows his fate rushing to meet him. Something snaps within him and nothing short of an inferno sweeps him away, stars dancing under his blinded eyelids as he releases. You don’t pull away, eagerly gulping him down as he spills into your mouth. It doesn’t register that he’s done until you finally move, one final tender kiss on his oversensitive head before you slowly move to sit on his lap.  
  
    There’s a brief instance of silence as Saeran catches his breath, he feels your hands on his face and leans into your touch. His silent prayers are answered, you pick apart his blindfold and it falls away. There are candles scattered around the room, flickering softly against the shaded room. How could he not have noticed the faint scent of lavender?  
  
    It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered right now was you. He leans closer, resting his forehead against yours.  
  
    “I love you,” he murmurs. His heart is a chorus of a thousand feelings, and you are the center of their worship.  
  
    “I love you too,” you whisper back, leaning in for a soft kiss. “Merry Christmas, Saeran.”


End file.
